


Roaming Hands

by CoinSprite



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, Groping, Kinda-Sorta (Not Really) Smut, Suggestive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16993890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoinSprite/pseuds/CoinSprite
Summary: Things get a bit steamy between Fuuka and Minato during what was meant to be a quiet day inside.





	Roaming Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This one was sitting on my laptop for months now, so I figured I could just finish it.  
> I'm still not sure how tags and ratings work, but I guess M would fit best. It's not entirely explicit, but it might be too suggestive to be kept at a T-Rating? _I don't really know, man._  
>  Either way, I hope anyone who's reading finds some kind of enjoyment in this. Now that school's more or less out of the way, I can start posting a bit more frequently! I hope to pump out a bit more Persona-related works, so watch out for those!

            Fuuka never thought that things could get so heated while playing a video game. Or, rather, she didn’t know things could get heated in a sense beyond passive aggression, shouting matches and fist fights. She never meant to make it so either; she was simply trying to focus on the game Minato let her play.

            It was a simple fighting game—Central City Brawlers—and Minato seemed content in watching her learn the basics. He wasn’t at all bored with being unable to play along as he didn’t own any other controllers, and even had Fuuka settle herself into his lap to better teach her the controls. Once she got accustomed to them, Minato just watched her play with his arms wrapped comfortably around her waist and his head perched atop hers.

            He was mostly quiet, even with Fuuka’s more animated reactions as she pressed on with the game’s supposed story, each fight proving to be more difficult than the last. She’d apologize every time she jumped, squirmed, or just moved too abruptly, thinking that she may have been causing him unnecessary discomfort, and even offered to get off his lap once or twice, but Minato waved it all off with a small smile and assurances that he’d rather keep her seated in his lap than have her sit somewhere else. The more she continued on with the game, though, the quieter he became.

            Eventually, Fuuka was able to control herself better, but would lean back and press herself into Minato every now and again, as if she needed to physically recoil back every time her opponent got too close. He’d respond with sharp breaths into her hair (he seemed to be hiding his face) and small squeezes around her waist, but Fuuka paid no mind to him; her focus completely directed into the game in front of her. Each press of a button and flick of the joystick was as precise as she could make it, and her eyes were locked onto her opponent’s character sprite, watching for its attacks and possible openings. She was still a beginner, of course, but she still didn’t want to give up her winning streak, even if it was a little shaky. After shimmying back one more time, though, she’d have to put that on hold.

            “Fuuka—”

            Her name was spoken in a husky whisper, a hot breath brushing over her right ear. She let out a small yelp as she quickly paused the game and shot an arm up to cover her ear, but her wrist was stopped right as her hand left the controller. With her focus no longer locked onto the game, Fuuka began to realize the situation she unknowingly got herself into. She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell that he was worked up. With how hot she just realized his body had gotten, it was safe to assume that his face was equally flushed.

            The grip he had around her waist grew tight as he pulled her in as close to his body as he could manage, nearly locking her in place. Any attempts Fuuka made to wiggle herself free were promptly quashed, as Minato’s hold on her remained firm. It was clear that he wanted to keep her close, but there were better ways to let her know, weren’t there? She could feel her own face getting hot as she still tried to create some space between them, unable to sit still, until he let out a muffled, low noise (she could’ve sworn it was like a growl); the hand locked around her wrist becoming looser as it twitched.

            “Please stop moving so much.”

            His voice was raspy, near breathless, and much lower than she had ever heard it. It made the hairs on her neck stand at attention—her own body rising in heat as she felt a gasp get caught in her throat. With no real way to focus on the game like this, Fuuka placed the controller on the floor in front of her. As Minato released his grip on her wrist and brought that arm back to her waist, Fuuka found herself shuddering slightly at the action, her body becoming increasingly sensitive now that she was nervous, and it was starting to buzz with a growing heat. She jerked up a bit when Minato began lightly tracing circles on her sides with his thumbs, but quickly allowed herself to relax against them. She’d be lying if she tried to make herself believe it didn’t feel nice.

            “Tell me when to stop,” he whispered before burying his face in the crook of her neck. It wasn’t long after that his grip around Fuuka’s waist went slack, but only to allow for his hands to begin roaming slowly over her. Sometimes, his fingers would lightly graze over her, so light that it was hard to tell if they were really there, while other times, they would press and rub into her clothes as if desperate to touch skin. Minato never overstepped his bounds, though, as he only let his hands roam around her hips and waist, and whenever he wished for his hands to explore more of her body, he’d trace light circles just before the area he wished to get to, waiting for Fuuka to give him permission.

            He did so at the very end of her waist and promptly let his hands go lower upon Fuuka’s approval. He made sure to keep his movements slow enough to not seem overly eager, even if his heart was beginning to beat so quickly and loudly that it may have been gearing itself up for the chance to burst right out of his chest. Its beating only seemed to somehow pick up even more speed once Minato got a proper feel for Fuuka’s thighs. Even through her white stockings, he could clearly feel how soft and a tad plump they were. He continued to lightly rub and grip at her legs, occasionally grazing the inner half of Fuuka’s thighs as he took in as many of her hushed mewls and sighs as he could.

            It was obvious that he was teasing her in this way. He let his hands graze at her inner thighs in such a quick, light and frequent manner until Fuuka became annoyed enough to try and cut off access to that area by closing her legs. Minato couldn’t help but chuckle into her shoulder at the act as he simply moved on to stroking, rubbing and pressing at her underside instead. With one swift and somewhat forceful motion, his hands glided over her ass, taking in its shape, its firmness, before working their way back up to her waist where his thumbs eagerly rubbed circles into her sides. When his actions earned him a louder, sharper gasp from Fuuka, he chuckled lowly again as he left his perch on her shoulder to press a soft kiss on the side of her neck.

            “So cute,” he mumbled, burying his face once more as the circles he was making became slower. Even when Fuuka gave him permission to keep going, Minato rubbed slightly harder circles into her hips, as if to wordlessly ask if she was certain she wanted what was coming. She responded by leaning into him and letting out a hum that sounded so needy, so immodest, that it started to become a real struggle to keep himself from pouncing on her right then and there.

            With a muffled groan of his own, he allowed his hands to sneak into Fuuka’s shirt, making sure to go in slow for two reasons: to allow for her to stop him if he was taking things too far, and to savor the feel of her soft, heated skin before then. Much to his surprise (and relief), the former never happened, not with Fuuka leaning into his fingers and coaxing for him to continue with the noises she was making.

            She wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. His hands, both soft and calloused, felt so nice against her skin, especially now that it had become sensitive to just about anything thanks to all the heat building and bubbling just underneath. It was all pooling into a white, hot knot at her center, and though she’d love to have Minato unravel it in a hurried frenzy, she couldn’t deny how much she favored wanting to hold onto it even more. To have Minato undo the knot slowly and carefully. It was lucky for her that he seemed intent on doing the latter, albeit more so to keep himself from losing composure and risk scaring her off. But, _god_ , was it getting harder to do so.

            Fuuka’s skin was just so hot to touch, and Minato wanted so badly to take it all for himself. He was careful not press too hard or rush in too fast as he inched towards her chest, but the closer he got, the more he felt his mind being overtaken by static. As he traced little, light lines along the underside of her breasts, his heart skipped a beat at the noise she let out. So high-pitched, so shameless; he had to shoot one of his hands back down to her waist to anchor himself.

            It wasn’t long before Minato allowed his left hand to ghost over her right breast until it covered as much as it could. He gave it a little squeeze, pushing it up with his palm, as his other hand was left to trace circles into her left hip. With the tiny squeal she let out, there was no way he was going to release his grip on her hip. If he let go, he was sure he’d lose control, and if the increasing discomfort he was starting to feel towards a certain part of his pants was any indication, he was all too close to losing his senses.

            Regardless, he continued lightly squeezing, pressing and groping at that breast. So soft, so hot and so squishy. If he wasn’t actively trying to restrain himself, he was sure that he would’ve tried to yank her bra off to free the both of them. The grip he had on Fuuka’s hip only got stronger as he moved on to her left breast, where he completely skipped over trying to tease her and went straight into squeezing and groping and pressing. Minato found himself pressing small, heated kisses on her shoulder and along the side of her neck, and each kiss lingered on her clothes and skin as he traveled upwards to her jawline.

            “Too cute,” he managed to say, his voice low and out of breath, “You’re too much.”

            Fuuka couldn’t even respond. The heat of her body was somehow still growing and, coupled with Minato’s actions, made it hard to breathe properly. Soon enough, however, Minato’s left hand shot back down to her waist, and both of his hands rubbed circles into her hips again. Puzzled, Fuuka glanced over to her right and felt her heart jump in her chest when she saw his face.

            His gaze was dark, and his eyes bored into hers as if he were a predator locking eyes with his prey, silently letting them know that he was about to come in for the kill. A whimper slipped out from Fuuka’s mouth as the circles Minato continued to rub became harder and wider. She quickly noticed that she was being pulled closer to him—into his lap—when she felt something press up against her rear.

            “If I keep going, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself,” he told her, his voice still raspy and low, with a dangerous edge in it to emphasize his warning, “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

            Even as he said this, Fuuka could feel him impatiently picking at the hem of her skirt. There was no point in stopping him now, the white, hot knot in her core had grown and tightened and became unbearable. No longer did she long for careful, calculated motions. Right now, she needed Minato to dig his fingers into the knot and take it apart with as much strength and ferocity as he could muster.

            And so, she leaned into him, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck as she placed her own hands on his to give them a little push in the direction she needed for them to go. She didn’t need to look at him to know how much more intense his gaze had gotten in that moment. His arms tensed up to give her one last warning, even if he was aware of her answer and how she wasn’t about to change it now.

            “It’s fine,” she sighed, leaning even further into his chest. As eager as she herself was, Fuuka still felt the need to brace herself for what would follow her next few words.

            “It’s a good thing we’re in your room then.”

            And, with that, Minato’s mind was completely engulfed in static. Restraint drowned along with it as he let his hands roam around as much of Fuuka’s body as they both wished.


End file.
